


Surrender

by RedNGold



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Miscommunication, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Song Lyrics, Unrequited Love, barlyle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22623733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedNGold/pseuds/RedNGold
Summary: Phillip has a notebook in which he writes down some things he would never want to be known. But secrets often have a way of coming out.
Relationships: P. T. Barnum/Phillip Carlyle
Comments: 9
Kudos: 82





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This fic idea has been trotting around in my head for ages. I would suggest copy-pasting the link below when Phillip starts to sing~ The lyrics have been tweaked just the slightest, but otherwise I think it fits 99% into Barlyle.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cEG9QIj2IeM

* * *

Surrender 

Phillip lets out a satisfied breath. Another great day. Tiring, no questions about that, but nonetheless thrilling. Once again he basks in the relief of that choice he had made a little over two years ago. Taking a chance and jumping into this madness with both feet. And hands tied. And eyes blindfolded. Hell, drunk out of his mind. But not a day goes by when he regrets it. There _was_ that whole Jenny Lind fiasco that had made Phillip doubt every step and every breath he had taken as the fill-in ringmaster. More nights than not he had drunk himself into oblivion to alleviate the feeling of helplessness and failure during Barnum's absence. The heartbreak at the knowledge that the mad entrepreneur had preferred the Swedish nightingale to him. To the entire circus. But that dark part of their partnership is over now. The fire has gone. They've rebuilt, and Phillip couldn't be happier to once again having taken a chance on Barnum. He hadn't lied when he had told the man that he brought joy into his life. Joy, purpose, pride. Love. So much love. Phillip has gained colleagues, friends, an entire new family. He has found a kindred spirit within Anne, who he is honored to call his closest friend. They both know they can tell each other everything. They had truly bonded when Barnum had been away, when all the responsibilities had befallen Phillip and had weighed too heavily for his shoulders. Anne had found him in the office, silently shedding his tears of frustration into his hands, Barnum's red coat in his lap. They had talked for hours that evening.

It had only been after the fire that Phillip had timidly told her of his attraction to men. More specifically, to Barnum. She had held him close, hushing him soothingly through his labored breathing at his own admission. Phillip is still convinced she is truly a Godsend. She had been accepting, and then helpful in making him believe that it was nothing to be ashamed of. Even ten and a half months later, Phillip still has some road to travel regarding that. He knows that logically, there is no chance of Barnum returning his feelings. They are both men, and Barnum had been married to Charity until the Jenny scandal. The two Barnums had parted ways amicably, having used this catalyst to realize that they didn't feel the same love anymore. At least that's what Barnum had told him. And indeed, Charity and the girls still visit the circus as often as they did before. Now, Phillip isn't in the habit of giving himself delusions, but he likes to think that Barnum looks at him the same way he looks at Charity. Granted, Charity is no longer his wife, but still, Barnum's eyes glint when he gazes at her. And at Phillip. And at Lettie, Charles, Constantine, Anne, W.D. Everyone here, truly. Even Bennett, for Christ's sake. But sometimes, Phillip likes to imagine that he's the only one privy to that look, and it serves to soothe his aching heart. Until he reminds himself that he is foolish, which breaks away a piece everytime. Despite the pain, Phillip's heartbeat still picks up whenever Barnum is around. He cannot help it, just as the stars cannot help themselves from shining in the midnight sky. 

Which brings Phillip to another fact: he has always been a man of words, mostly on paper. Having written play after play, read book after book, listened to poem after poem, Phillip isn't quite surprised to find himself needing to put pen to paper regarding his unrequited feelings. It's a good way to relieve tension and ease the pressure off his heart, a small portion of it at least. He has an entire notebook dedicated to lovesick rambles, and another one already filled up at his apartment. Naturally he never writes down Barnum's name, but some of the allusions are quite damning. That's why he always makes sure to keep it close at all times, so when the desire or need hits him –particularly while Barum is performing in the ring– he can have access to it. It's not that he thinks others might snoop in, but nevertheless, it'd be like deserting his heart into a murder of crows. Friendly crows, but still. 

Phillip pats his satchel as he is about to exit the empty tent, as the hour is late and most have retired to their caravans. He is looking forward to pen down a few words that have been trotting around his head all evening while he and Barnum had been filling up check forms. The way Barnum's brow had furrowed in perplexity, his fingers gripping at his hair and pulling, frustrated puffs of air escaping his lips–

“Hey, Phillip!” 

Phillip turns around, smile already in place at the sound of the devil-spoken-of's voice, the one who currently occupies three quarters of his notebook-shaped heart. The same notebook which is currently being picked up off the ground by said-devil, opened randomly at a page. “You dropped something!”

Phillip's heart stops, smile fading, the world slowing around him. This can't be happening. ' _Shitshitshit!'_ Anytime now Barnum's eyes will travel to whatever cursed page the book has landed on, and Phillip's secret will be out in the open. They will laugh. They will be disgusted. Barnum will be appalled. Everyone, the entirety of New York, his parents, they'll all know! Phillip can't move. He needs to get to that book but he _can't. Move_. 

“I hope you're not stealing our tax forms to secretly work until morning, Phil.” As his eyes cast down, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, then raising in surprise, Phillip wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

 _'That's it,'_ Phillip thinks, _'He knows.'_

“What's this?” Barnum asks as he beckons Phillip closer. As always whenever Barnum gives him an order, verbal or nonverbal, Phillip cannot refuse. His legs unlock, working on automatic to walk towards his partner. His friend. His heart's shameful desire. Soon, he'll be nothing more than a past acquaintance. It's all over. “Why didn't you tell me you wrote a new song?”

 _'A song? A song. What song? Oh no. Not the song. Not the damn song_ – _'_ “Uh,” Phillip replies intelligently as he stops next to Barnum. “I-I don't, uh, know. Can I–” he tries to get the book back without seeming urgent, but Barnum leans away with it, eyes fixated on the page where lyrics and music notes are written down neatly. The messy draft had long since been thrown out. 

“This is beautiful, Flip,” Barnum declares with a blinding smile, making Phillip's heart abruptly come back to life only to hammer wildly against his ribcage.

“You– You think so?” God, he sounds like a schoolgirl with a crush. “You don't think it's… abnormal?”

Barnum looks at him then, eyes softening. “Of course not. There is nothing wrong with a love that is deemed forbidden by the close minded.” At that, Phillip's heart soars. He was right then? It hadn't just been his imagination? Barnum also–?! May the Lord have mercy and not send him into cardiac arrest this exact minute. This must surely be the most incredible day of his life! This is– “Anne will love this.”

Silence.

“Anne..?” Phillip echoes quietly in a stupor.

“Yes. That _is_ who you wrote this for, isn't it?”

Oh God, he's going to be sick. 

“Yes.” Phillip hears himself say.

“Aha! I knew it!" Barnum exclaims joyfully. "It's obvious how close the two of you have become over the past two years. Why haven't you made your move yet?”

“I... I don't know.” Barnum thinks he's in love with Anne?

“Oh, this is perfect. The fates must have made me find your book. I know exactly what to do!”

“P.T–” ' _No, this must stop.'_

“We'll give the music sheet to the musicians, they'll learn it quickly I'm sure." Barnum begins excitedly. "Then we get Anne down in the ring, put her on an elephant and– Oh and that elephant will be dressed in gold. We'll get you a new suit, prepare some glitter for the end and–”

“P.T. wait–”

“You could come down from the rafters, swing down from a trapeze, or from the silks. Oh she's going to remember this for the rest of her life I promise–”

“ _P.T_.” Phillip snaps out, voice trembling. “I don't want this. Any of this. Just– Stop.”

Barnum stops abruptly, looking at his partner oddly. “Why not? Phillip, you need to tell her at some point before she thinks you're not interested anymore.”

“It's not even–” Phillip cuts himself off. _It's not for her._

“Not what?”

“It's not…” ' _Tell him. Go on. It's not for her, it's for you.'_ “It's not ready.”

“Yes it is. It's perfect." Barnum assures him gently. "But I understand if you don't want all that excitement. We'll just have the musicians, hidden. How does that sound?”

_Like a nightmare._

“Why are you so insistent that I do this?” _'I don't want to do this!'_

“Because you and Anne deserve each other. You've been pinning for so long, I want to see you happy.”

Phillip finds himself speechless. He's happy. The circus makes him happy. But there is indeed something missing. How can he tell the man he loves that _he_ is the one who can complete his happiness? Barnum takes his silence as an agreement, his smile broadening. He sets a warm and large hand on Phillip's shoulder. 

“It'll be great, you'll see. I guarantee Anne will be deeply touched by your song. You've really poured your heart into it.”

_'My heart sings for you, P.T. Can't you hear it?'_

“Y-Yeah.” Phillip replies quietly. “Guess I did.”

Barnum's hand falls away, and Phillip acutely feels the loss. “You don't mind if I hang onto this, do you? I'll write a copy of the music sheet for the maestro.”

“Yeah…” Phillip says, mind still reeling, before realizing exactly what he's agreeing to. “ _No!_ ” He quickly snatches the notebook out of Barnum's hand. “I'll do it.”

Barnum raises an amused eyebrow. “Worried I'll snoop into some other _loving_ material?” He chuckles at his own joke while Phillip forces out a similar sound.

“Right. Um, it's late. I should– We should go. Home. To sleep.”

“Well look who suddenly became responsible!” Barnum teases, nonetheless starting the walk to the exit, Phillip automatically falling into step. “You need all the beauty rest you can get, is that it? Not that you don't look like a genuine prince all day already.” he continues, seemingly pensive in his ramblings. “Actually, maybe you should sleep less. You're setting the bar too high for the rest of us common folk.”

Phillip is barely listening, too focused on the desire to get home and crawl under the covers. He nods along to whatever else Barnum says, before bidding him goodnight when their roads part ways. There are no more hansoms at this hour, so Phillip walks home, clutching his notebook in a death grip. Cursed thing. 

He arrives home without a hitch, pouring himself a drink as he sits down at his desk to fulfill his word. The music flows through his tired brain, the lyrics following suit. He had written that foolish song months ago, after he and Barnum had decided to celebrate a new investor’s signature. Nothing too special there. But as they had gotten tipsier in the office, Phillip’s inhibitions had lowered and he had found himself openly staring at the other man. Barnum had been, as usual, regaling him with wild stories and endless possibilities, unaware of Phillip’s lovesick gaze on him. When finally he had turned his head to the younger man, their eyes meeting, his words had stopped, lost in the air. He had stared back at Phillip, albeit in a more curious way. He had reached out, gently taking ahold of Phillip’s chin and tilting his head up. Phillip’s heart had stopped then, skin ablaze from the simple touch. His mind had been too clouded by the alcohol to be wary of this action. Barnum had smiled softly, and told him that his eyes were the most bewitching he’d ever seen. Then he’d released Phillip and gone back to his pondering over the next death-defying act, leaving Phillip to pick up the pieces of his heart off the floor. The song, in the privacy of his home, had come easily to Phillip, the first draft smudged with little salted circles. 

* * *

“Anne!” Phillip calls as he enters the ring the next morning and sees his friend already in training gear. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Can it wait until I’m done?” she asks, her hands already on the lyra. 

Phillip glances around, fearful of Barnum’s sudden appearance. He tends to simply appear out of the blue. “S-Sure. My apologies. I’ll just–” he turns to walk towards the bleachers to sit down and wait, but Anne seems to detect the urgency.

“Phillip.” she lets her hands fall to her sides, taking a step forward. “Is something wrong?” Her tone shows genuine concern, having noticed Phillip’s nervous posture.

“I– I mean it’s…” Phillip tries, still glancing around. “It can wait.” 

Anne tilts her head in suspicion, before closing the distance between them and looping her arm under Phillip’s. “Come on, let’s go to my caravan.” Phillip lets himself be guided silently, knowing he won’t be able to convince Anne that nothing is amiss. When the door closes behind them, Anne places her hands on her hips. “Alright. Spill.” So Phillip does, as simply and quickly as possible. 

“And now I have to hand the copy to P.T. otherwise he’ll probably hassle me for it.” 

Anne remains silent for a few seconds, taking it in. “Can I see it?” Phillip barely hesitates, fishing it out of his satchel for her. She takes it carefully, reading through the lyrics. A subdued smile forms on her delicate features. She looks back up at him. “Oh, Phillip. This is so… so…”

“Dim-witted?” he supplies. She flicks his forehead.

“ _No_.” she emphasizes. “It’s lovely. Barnum should consider himself lucky to be serenaded like this.” 

Phillip lowers his eyes with a trembling sigh. “Well he’ll never be. I shouldn’t even have written this, and now he wants me to–” he swallows thickly. “He wants me to–” he chokes, and immediately finds himself engulfed in Anne’s reassuring embrace.

“He wants you to put your heart out on your sleeve for the wrong person.” she finishes. “Phillip, I’m so sorry.” Phillip rests his head on her shoulder, biting his lip to distract himself from his inner pain. “What do you want to do now?”

Phillip thinks. He already knows the answer. He knows he’ll do anything Barnum tells him to. “He won’t let it go.” he states. That is true and they both know it. That’s just how Barnum is. “But I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

Anne gently separates their embrace. “What position?” she teases. “Pretending to be on the receiving end of your love declaration? I can’t see why I’d complain. But Phil,” she pauses, “have you considered the possibility that he might feel the same way, about you?”

Phillip croaks out a bitter laugh, shaking his head defeatedly. “That’s impossible.”

“Well why not?” she shoots back. “You’re an amazing man, Phil. Smart, witty, attractive. You two get along better than anyone else–”

“Anne–”

“He looks at you all the time,” she continues, undeterred, “he talks about you with the brightest of his smiles, he always wants to spend time with you–”

“ _Anne_.” Phillip cuts in sharply, unwilling to get his hopes up. He does that enough on his own during his day and nighttime fantasies. “He doesn’t feel that way. He was married to a woman, for God’s sake. He’s not a disgusting–”

“Don’t say it.” Anne interrupts sternly. “We’ve talked about this.”

Phillip bites his lower lip to cut off the slur against himself. He looks down apologetically. “Sorry.” he says quietly. “I’m not a disgusting faggot.” She’d made him repeat that sentence numerous times over the past few months, everytime Phillip would talk in that direction.

Anne sighs, hooking two fingers under his chin, lifting his head back up. “Then we’ll just pretend together. “ she suggests with confidence. “I don’t mind.”

“You mean– Are you sure?” Phillip asks, both relieved that his friend is on board and devastated that Barnum’s scheme is coming along.

“I’m sure.” Anne declares. “Plus, I think I’d like to hear that song. In some way, I’m honored to be _chosen_ to.”

Phillip lets out a surprised laugh. “If anyone has to hear it against my will, I’m glad it’s you.” Anne laughs back. “Smart mouth.” She gestures for them to step out. “Now come on, I have training to do and you, a ringmaster to trick.”

As they head back into the main tent, they spot Barnum on the other end of the ring, talking to Lettie. Phillip sighs unknowingly as he gazes at the man. Anne giggles. “At least _try_ to be inconspicuous about it, Phil.” 

Phillip blinks and sighs again, tearing his eyes away from his heart’s desire. “I–”

“Phillip!” Barnum calls, snapping Phillip’s attention back to him instantly. “Office!”

Phillip turns to Anne, and notices that she is already on her way to get her equipment ready again. So he goes to meet his partner in the adjacent tent, forcing his steps to remain casual. 

As soon as Phillip steps into their office and before he can even greet the other man, Barnum is on him, firing out questions like a one of their canons. 

“Did you talk to Anne yet? What did she say? Did you bring a copy of the music sheet? What are you going to wear? What do you think about–”

_This is going to be a long day._

* * *

It only takes three short days from Barnum’s plan to fall into place. The musicians are, as always, efficient when it comes to learning something new. Barnum has made sure they know to remain hidden as not to ‘break the magic’. The conniving ringleader has also seen to it that the other oddities will not be interrupting them this evening. How he managed that, Phillip doesn’t want to know. Phillip has been going silently along with things, piping in occasionally when Barnum dives back into craziness. He tells himself to relax, that it probably won’t be as bad as he thinks it will be. But he can’t stop thinking about how it’s not supposed to happen. Barnum was never supposed to catch a glimpse of his heart. He was not supposed to believe Phillip’s words were for someone else. None of this was supposed to happen. Phillip is a private person, and his inadequate feelings don’t deserve to be brought to light. 

“Anne’s in the ring.” Barnum informs him as he enters the office. “Are you ready?”

 _'Absolutely not.'_ “Yes.” Phillip answers softly as he adjusts his hair for the umpteenth time in front of the full-length mirror. His stomach is churning, his hands are sweaty, his tongue feels like cotton. “I’ll be right there.”

Barnum steps behind him, placing both hands on Phillip’s shoulders, his reflection smiling at Phillip’s. “It’s gonna be great, no need to be nervous.” he tells his younger partner. “But I understand. You’re feeling the butterflies in your stomach, right?” 

_'More like a million daggers.'_ “I guess.” Phillip says quietly. God, he doesn’t want to do this. “P.T, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” he squeezes his shoulders. “Shoot.”

Phillip takes a deep breath. “Did you– I mean…With Charity, how did you know she was… the one?”

Barnum hums in thought. “I’m not sure.” Barnum tells him with a nostalgic tone. “I guess I just knew. She just made my world brighter. The mere thought of her would make me smile. Her own smile would make me believe I could do anything, be anything. Her touch,” he squeezes Phillip’s shoulders again. “It was like being caressed by the stars themselves.”

Phillip swallows thickly, looking down, his hands clenching into fists. “I see.” he whispers. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” Barnum says, more subdued than when he came it. “I hope that’s what you’re feeling too.”

“It is.” ' _Everytime I see you, talk to you, witness your smile, feel your touch.'_

“Good. Now come on, she’s waiting!” Barnum pushes Phillip out the door, careful not to wrinkle his white shirt. They enter the main tent, and Barnum pulls him to a stop, giving him a last once-over, adjusting his collar. 

“Go get her, Flip.” Barnum encourages him before pushing him forward.

Phillip takes a deep breath, and steps out from under the bleachers. He joins Anne, who is sitting on the first row at the center on the wooden benches. She offers him a small smile. 

“Ready?” she asks in a whisper. 

“No.” he whispers back. “Is he gone?” 

Anne glances behind her friend. “He’s by the main ropes pillar, watching.”

Phillip swallows. Of course Barnum would want to stay and make sure Phillip doesn’t chicken out. “Thank you. For doing this.” 

“Anytime, Phil. Now go ahead, woo me.” She winks. Phillip nods with a forced smile. He turns around, and walks to the center of the ring.

The music starts, the piano resonating across the tent. 

_There's so much life I've left to live_

_And this fire is burning still_

_When I watch you look at me_

_I think I could find the will_

_To stand for every dream_

_And forsake this solid ground_

_And give up this fear within_

_Of what would happen if they ever knew_

_I'm in love with you_

_'Cause I'd surrender everything_

_To feel the chance to live again_

_I reach to you_

_I wish you would feel it too_

_We'd make it through_

_A million dreams I still believe_

_I'd make you give them all to me_

_I'd hold you in my arms and never let go_

_I surrender_

_I know I can't survive_

_Another night away from you_

_You're the reason I go on_

_And now I need to live the truth_

_Right now, there's no better time_

_From this fear I will break free_

_And I'll live again with love_

_And no they can't take that away from me_

_And they will see_

_'Cause I'd surrender everything_

_To feel the chance to live again_

_I reach to you_

_I wish you would feel it too_

_We'd make it through_

_A million dreams I still believe_

_I'd make you give them all to me_

_I'd hold you in my arms and never let go_

_I surrender_

_Every night's getting longer_

_And this fire is getting stronger, darling_

_I'll swallow my pride and I'll be alive_

_Can't you hear my call_

_I surrender all_

_I'd surrender everything_

_To feel the chance to live again_

_I reach to you_

_I wish you would feel it too_

_We'd make it through_

_A million dreams I still believe_

_I'll make you give them all to me_

_I'll hold you in my arms and never let go_

_I surrender_

_Right here, right now_

_I give my life to live again_

_I'll break free, take me_

_My everything I surrender all to you_

_Right now_

_I give my life to live again_

_I'll break free_

Phillip trails off, throat clogging with sobs he desperately holds back, unable to contain the tears that finally break free. He’d managed to keep them at bay since this whole debacle started, but now… Now he can’t. He lets them fall onto the sawdust as the music fades away. Not five seconds later, Anne is by him, gathering him in her arms tightly. He sinks in her embrace, his traitorous sobs finally escaping him but luckily muffled against her shoulder. 

He doesn’t know how long they remain standing there in the middle of the ring in each other’s arms. He doesn’t know if Barnum has gone. He can’t bring himself to care as he struggles to breathe as his heart shatters into a million pieces, just as his million dreams have done. 

* * *

Barnum sighs as he steps out of the tent and into the streets. He hails a hansom, and begins his journey back home. He’d seen it fit to give the two lovebirds some privacy once everything had fallen into place. Phillip’s performance has been breath-taking despite his obvious nervousness at the beginning. But as the song had progressed, Phillip had beautifully let his vocal chords transport them within the words. Well, _them_ , more specifically, _Anne_ . He had just been a passenger aboard that emotional train, just making sure everything had gone to plan and Phillip hadn’t chickened out. It still astounds him how Phillip can be so brave in some situations, and completely shy in others. It’s an amusing mix, one that Barnum finds to be more enticing than a completely brave personality, if anything. He hopes these two kids can both summon the bravery to seal this deal once and for all. They’ve been dancing around each other for too long, after all. Barnum sighs again, settling in comfortably in the hansom. He’s content, isn’t he? He _did_ give his younger partner the push he needed. So why is there this little nagging feeling that something isn’t right? Phillip had kept glancing at him throughout the song, his eyes shining with tears. Barnum had assumed they had stemmed from the strong emotions he had been expressing through the music. But then he had seen Anne’s own expression: she had been stoic for the most part, then she’d looked at Barnum too briefly. When it had been over, she had rushed to Phillip, throwing her arms around him almost urgently. That’s when Barnum had decided to leave. Something is off, but he doesn’t know what. Both his partner and the trapeze artist had reacted in a way unconventional of two new lovers. But who is he to judge when their entire line of work is unconventional? Maybe that’s just how the younger generation does things. Not like him and Charity. Oh no, their love had been something else entirely. He hadn’t lied when he had told Phillip that she had been the one. And yet, with his divorced status, she obviously hadn’t been the one. Or maybe not the _only_ one. Their love still exists, but it’s tamer. Their million dreams had parted ways. He hopes she’ll find someone with whom to accomplish them in a way that is worthy of the incredible woman she is. As for himself, he considers himself too old to find another... soulmate. He already deems himself the luckiest man in the world for having found one in Charity. He can die a happy and satisfied man. Although that’s not not quite true, he doesn’t _want_ to die anytime soon. What would happen to his circus? To his family, his friends? His– To Phillip? He can’t imagine being without Phillip anywhere, in this life or the next. The young man is the glint in his eye, just as Charity was the glint in his other eye. But not in the same way, of course not. That would be preposterous. Indecent, even. Simply ludicrous. Phillip and him involved romantically. Laughable. Phillip is a young and attractive man. He has Anne. and most importantly, he’s a _man_ . Just a friend, a business partner. Family. And a _man_ , for God’s sake. Why is he even thinking about this? He must be tired. Tomorrow, he’ll inquire as to the post-performance proceedings. In a decent and polite way, of course. He won’t probe if it turns out the youngsters decided to, shall we say, _express_ their love for one another. He’ll be subtle. For now, he’ll ignore the confused and envious feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought, and think about the pros of a sky-trampoline act instead. He’ll leave the cons to Phillip.

* * *

When Barnum comes in the next morning, Phillip is already in the office, hunched at his desk. He’s wearing the same clothes as he did yesterday, slightly creased. His hair is slicked back, but not perfectly. Barnum can conclude that his young partner has spent the night at the circus. Most probably, in a certain trapeze artist’s caravan, if the sweet honey smell is anything to go by. Barnum once again feels this inexplicable surge of envy. He forces it down. As he approaches the desk, Phillip looks up. Barnum then notices how his eyelids are minutely swollen, and his hand clenched tightly around his pen. Nonetheless, he offers Barnum a small smile.

“Morning, P.T.” he greets, his voice somewhat raspy. 

“And a great morning to you.” Barnum replies, leaning his hips against the desk. “So? Things went well, I take it?” 

Phillip looks back down to his papers, smile fading. “Yes.” he answers softly. “They did. Thank you.”

Sensing that Phillip doesn’t want to elaborate, Barnum doesn’t pry. He finds Phillip’s stiff posture and overall attitude odd, especially for a man finally gaining his heart’s desire, but he doesn’t question it. So he simply starts on his work, vowing to keep a closer eye on Phillip.

* * *

For the next week and a half, Barnum’s worry over his business partner only increases. He observes his interactions with Anne, and they don’t seem to have changed from the last two years. They still talk as they did before, spend time together, smile at each other. But there are no little touches, no hand holding, no sneaked kisses or any other sign of romantic affection. Barnum remembers how he and Charity acted when they had officially started courting. They couldn’t get their hands off each other, almost walking into walls because their eyes were constantly on the other. Kind of like the way he had walked into a pillar when Phillip had been practicing a knee-spin for the first time in the ring last year. Luckily no one had seen him, otherwise the jokes would have started and never ceased. 

Back to the mystery of Phillip and Anne, Barnum hopes they haven’t decided to remain friends instead. It would break Phillip’s heart. He wonders if he should talk to Phillip about it. Maybe he could also ask Lettie to talk to Anne. But he isn’t sure if any kind of intervention would be welcome. He just wants his close friend to be happy. He deserves it more than anyone. 

That’s how Barnum finds himself cornering his young partner after a show. Phillip has, as always, performed stunningly. However, his performance has lacked a certain… energy. 

After all the guests have left, Barnum joins his troop backstage to congratulate them. He passes through everyone, patting them shoulders with a proud grin, before spotting Phillip further away, holding his hat and simply staring at it blankly. Barnum heads towards him, worry spiking. 

“Flip?” Barnum calls softly as he nears. “Everything alright?”

Phillip raises his head, his eyes hollow as his gaze settles on Barnum. The smile that follows is closer to a grimace. “Yeah. Another good show, right?” Before Barnum can even answer, Phillip makes to walk past him. Barnum catches his arm, frowning.

“Phillip, what’s going on?”

Phillip wrenches his arm away, avoiding Barnum’s disquieted eyes. “Nothing. Leave me alone.”

He walks away, out of the tent. Barnum lets him, too shocked to enquire further or follow him. He eventually shakes himself of his stupor, and resumes the mingling with the others. Unknown to him, Anne has seen the entire exchange, sighing sadly.

* * *

A knock interrupts Barnum from his musings later that evening. He’s alone in the office, as Phillip had seemingly gone home directly after the show.

“Come in!” he calls, setting his drink down on the coffee table. He stands up when Anne steps in. “Anne! Great show tonight!”

Anne smiles softly, nodding her head in thanks. “Are you busy?”

“Not at all. Come on in, have a seat.” He waits until she’s sat down in the armchair opposite the couch before sitting back down. “What can I help you with?”

“It’s about Phillip.” Anne declares, not bothering to beat around the bush. She notices how Barnum immediately straightens. No matter what Phillip thinks, Anne is almost sure that Barnum _does_ feel something for her heartbroken friend. So what if Barnum was married to a woman before? Maybe he simply needed to know Phillip to discover a new part of himself. As the ringmaster likes to tell them all the time: _Nothing’s impossible_.

“What about Phillip? Is he alright?” Barnum asks, worry lacing his voice. It’s obvious he already knows the answer to that question, but not the ‘why’ of it. 

“He’s… troubled, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Anne starts, playing with the edge of her skirt. Despite Barnum’s openly friendly nature and his insistence of standing on equal grounds with everyone here, Anne can’t help but get nervous sometimes. But she knows she needs to say her part. “It’s about the night he sang to me.”

Again, Barnum’s attention sharpens, before frowning. He clears his throat. “I’m not sure if what happened between you and Phillip that night is any of my business, or should be, for that matter.”

“Nothing happened.” Anne tells him calmly. 

Barnum raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh.” he breathes. He won’t acknowledge the feeling of relief travelling down his shoulders. “I’m… sorry. I had thought– I was sure… Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” she answers, touched that despite his worry for Phillip, he still enquires about her wellbeing. “But Phillip isn’t.”

“No, he’s not.” Barnum agrees with a long sigh. “That explains why he’s been acting detached these past few days.”

They remain silent for a minute. Anne decides to take the leap. “The song wasn’t for me.”

Barnum, who had been staring at the lit fireplace, snaps his attention back to her. “What do you mean? He told me he wrote it for you.”

“He lied.” Anne insists. “He did write it for someone, but not for me.”

“Who is it for, then?” Barnum asks almost too quickly before realizing his lack in decorum. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t ask. Phil will tell me if he wishes to.”

Anne shakes her head. “I doubt it.” She stands, Barnum follows suit. “I can’t tell you who the song is for, but I think you already know. You read it, after all. You heard it. You were there.”

Barnum frowns. He remembers the song word for word, note for note, thanks to his sharp memory and the sheer impact of the words themselves. How could one forget something as touching and soulful as that song?

“Goodnight, Barnum.” Anne says softly, walking away.

“Goodnight, Anne.” Barnum wishes back just as quietly, now alone in his office. He stands there for a couple minutes, unsure of what to think. He snaps out of it and spins around, grabs his drink and sits down at his desk. He pulls out a blank paper from a drawer and quickly makes work of writing down the lyrics. 

He then stares at each and every word intently, sipping his drink until his glass is empty. He refills it generously. Anne had said that he already knows. How does he know? How can he possibly know? What is he missing?

Three hours later, Barnum is still burning a hole through the paper. He’s only made wild guesses so far, gone through all the women at the circus, and none of the hypotheses make any sense. When the letters begin to move by themselves, Barnum leans back in his chair, rubbing at his tired eyes. He’s been here too long, it won’t get any clearer now. He doesn’t even know why he’s obsessing over this. _It’s to help Phillip, nothing else_ . Right. But at this late hour, he won’t be able to help anyone. So Barnum stands up, stretches, and fetches his coat and hat. He’s about to leave, when his curiosity stops him. With a self-depreciating sigh, he goes to pick up the paper and folds it into his inner pocket. He heads out into the streets, the fresh air a welcome change. However, the lyrics still continue to dance in his head. He walks past their usual bar, now closed, and, as always, is pleasantly reminded of his first meeting with Phillip. The song they drunkenly sang as they danced on tabletops. _Right here, right now, I put the offer out_ – 

_Wait a second_. Barnum stops on the deserted sidewalk, quickly fishing out the paper, reading it for the umpteenth time. 

_Right here, right now_

_I give my life to live again_

_I'll break free, take me_

That sounds a lot like the proposition he had made Phillip two years ago. To live a little, break down his walls, to give him freedom. To take him to the other side. Coincidence? _Alright Barnum, think_. 

_And give up this fear within_

_Of what would happen if they ever knew_

_I'm in love with you_

Forbidden love, which had fit to a relationship with Anne. What else is forbidden? Anybody in the circus, really. They’re all in the same category of underdogs, snubbed by society. But among each other, it wouldn’t be a problem.

_A million dreams I still believe_

_I'd make you give them all to me_

_I'd hold you in my arms and never let go_

How did he miss that one? A million dreams. That’s what he used to talk about with Charity. He told Phillip as much when he first introduced her to him, two years ago. A million dreams shared by lovers.

_Every night's getting longer_

_And this fire is getting stronger, darling_

Could he have been talking about the fire? The actual fire? The long nights trying to keep the show running while he had been away. Is that fire metaphorical, a passion building up inside? So did Phillip fall in love with that mystery woman while he was on tour? But who?

_When I watch you look at me_

_I think I could find the will_

_To stand for every dream_

It’s someone who watched Phillip a lot, someone who inspires him to stand up for his dreams just as they do. … He watches Phillip a lot. He dares say that he’s stood up a fair share for his and his family’s dreams, the circus’. 

_I reach to you_

_I wish you would feel it too_

Phillip thinks that person doesn’t reciprocate his feelings. And when did ‘the woman’ become ‘the person’? It’s obviously a ‘she’. ...Or is it? Could it… _Forbidden love_.

The realization hits Barnum like a pack of bricks. 

“Oh.” he whispers to himself. Can it really be? Could Phillip really be a– what’s the term? No matter, but why does the idea send a swarm of butterflies in his stomach? Why does the tension in his shoulders suddenly disappear? And is that hope blossoming in his chest? None of this makes any sense. Who is the song for? Which man has stolen Phillip’s golden heart? Which damn bastard has captured Phillip’s attention better than he has? Who the Hell is the privileged weasel who would get to lose himself into Phillip’s breathtaking cerulean eyes? He regrets thinking badly of–

‘– _you already know. You read it, after all. You heard it. You were there._ ’ Anne’s words echo through his whirlwind mind. He was _there_ . He saw Phillip pour his heart out to someone– _a man_ who hadn’t been there. He had looked at Barnum multiple times, those eyes of his shining with what he can now judge to be despair. Had he been begging for him to stop this charade? Or had it been another kind of hopelessness? Could it be that Phillip had been… singing to him? 

The sudden entertainment of that possibility steals the balance from under Barnum’s feet, who is forced to lean against the closest building wall to support himself. Why is his heart beating faster, as strong as battle drums, as heavy as the audience’s rhythm during the show? It’s not possible, but it all seems to add up; Phillip always looking at him, hanging on to his every word, shifting into his touch, eyes twinkling in response to his grins. Come to think of it, Phillip had once also walked into a pillar after Barnum had called him for their other side of the tent. So many instances when Phillip had sought him out just to spend time with him. And he knows he’s done the exact same in regards to Phillip. He remembers that night on the office couch, peering into Phillip’s eyes and wondering where that electric jolt had come from. It’s all so obvious! How did he not realize before? 

He needs to speak to Phillip. _Now._

Barnum spins around, and breaks into a run. He doesn’t know why exactly he’s running like the demons are after him, but he just knows he needs to see Phillip. _I surrender_.

Barnum doesn’t stop until he’s climbed the four stories of Phillip’s building, familiar with the place he’s visited countless times. Before he can think rationally about his actions, adrenaline pumping through his veins, he knocks. Hard. Continuously. To the point where some neighbors begin to shout their displeasure at the disruptive noise. But he doesn’t care, not when he might possibly be right. 

But what if he isn’t?

Too late, the door unlocks, and opens.

“P.T?” Phillip questions, surprise and sleep lacing his voice. He’s wearing his night clothes, a plaid pair of cotton pants and a long-sleeved shirt to match. “What are you–”

_Good bloody question._

“The song–” Barnum pants, now realizing how out of breath he is. He did sprint quite a bit. “Who– was it for?”

Phillip blinks, stiffening. “Are you drunk?” he asks, glancing behind Barnum to make sure none of the neighbors are eavesdropping. 

“I know it wasn’t– for Anne.”

“P.T, you’re being ridiculous.” Phillip’s voice trembles minutely. “Go home, it’s three in the morning.” He moves to close the door, but Barnum sets a foot to block it. He takes a deep, stabilizing breath. And another, to gather his courage, or idiocy, perhaps.

“That line, ‘ _I'll hold you in my arms and never let go_ ’.” he quotes with unsteady confidence, noting the widening of Phillip’s eyes. “I’d like to do that.”

Phillip’s lips part, and close again. And open once more, no sound coming out. So Barnum does what he does best: he takes a chance. He steps forward and raises a hand, cupping Phillip’s cheek. It heats up under his touch. Slowly, carefully, he tilts his head and leans it forward.

Their lips meet in a soft, timid kiss. 

Phillip emits a small sound, similar to a whimper, standing on his toes for closer contact. Barnum sighs in bliss before deepening the kiss. This feels right. Good. Absolutely perfect. Just like his Phillip. 

Neither man knows when they’ve migrated inside the apartment and closed the door behind them, but Barnum now has Phillip gently pinned against one of the darkened entrance walls, lips still locked with his. When they finally part, if only to remain an inch for each other, they wear matching smitten smiles.

“Ready to live the truth, Phillip?” Barnum whispers amorously.

“There’s no better time, P.T.” Phillip answers, equally enamored.

“Phineas.” Barnum corrects, pecking his lips.

“ _Phineas_.” Phillip echoes, a new awe to his voice. 

Their next kiss is full of promise for a new life of passion, romance, and euphorically unbridled love.

  
  


The End

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
